


Extended Stay

by ElGato



Series: Our Complicated Life [6]
Category: DCU (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Diary/Journal, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElGato/pseuds/ElGato
Summary: Greek deity Atlantiades stumbles across a legacy their mother left behind. A journal of Aphrodite's observations of an Amazon princess and her housemate.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the current comic storyline by G Willow Wilson. If you have not started reading this run, this will contain spoilers for the recent issues. Especially a major one. If you don't care about comic continuity and just want to read a story about Diana, Steve and a Greek Goddess of Love then feel free to continue. Just a warning for those both familiar and unfamiliar to the comic side of things. Also, this story will involve a non-binary character, and I am using the pronouns the comics have given them. Any um-bridge to the proper use of those pronouns will have to be taken up with the OG writer and DC, not with me.

_ No one knows how to feel when a parent dies. _

Those words shouldn’t be true. It sounds obvious that a child would mourn the loss of their parent. They would feel grief. But in reality, everything moves in such a blur, you don’t really think about feeling. You think about what’s next. You don’t really linger on the fact that the person who raised you is gone.

Atlantiades had to begrudgingly agree with that mortal soldier’s words, and they found them to be an accurate description of their feelings. They didn’t have the best relationship with their Goddess of Love mother, Aphrodite. And any agreement to make amends was cut short by that monster Cheetah, who managed to do the impossible and take the Goddess’ life.

Atlantiades may not have known how to feel, but they knew they were feeling empty, listless. They had taken the afternoon wandering and pacing throughout the lovely Princess Diana’s home, thinking now about the uncertainty of the future.

They found themselves up in the guest loft, where they were going to share the room with their mother. Something they dreaded when they first heard of their bedroom arrangements, and now…

Well, they could feel the absence as if it were a presence itself. Heavy and quiet.

But there it was, a small notebook. Not particularly nicely bound, or impressive looking. Just a simple spiral notebook sitting on the night stand. At a quick glance, they could recognize the scrawl, and realized it was their mother's private diary.

_ The last days of my mother. _

Atlantiades thumbed through the slim book to give it a passing glance. Just a little one. No need to delve inside the woman’s thoughts of the past few weeks. But the lingering curiosity forced them to sit down on the bed and open the front flimsy cover to the first entry.

_ Day 1, _

_ I have not spent a day in this house and I am already bored. Well, bored and anxious. I fear a sense of forboding everyday, yet being stuck away from home, I do not know what to do with myself. _

_ I am a guest of the household of Diana of Themyscira, an Amazon. The Princess of Amazons to be precise. Princess or scullery maid, it didn’t much matter to me, but this princess was kind enough to open her home to me and a few of my four-legged friends. _

_ For as generous Diana is, I am now caught sharing her home with a human man named Steven Trevor, Master Chief of the United States Navy (by Zeus’ grey scrote hair who comes up with these names and titles?). He has impressed me in my first meeting of him, meaning he exceeded my incredibly low expectations of this rather dull lover of the Princess of Amazons. _ _ Though he and I had exchanged pleasantries in Durovnia, he made it known he was not comfortable me being housed here. He’s not exactly subtle about it. _

_ There are times I don’t think he has any idea what is going on. He obviously doesn’t realize he is speaking to a goddess. What world have I entered that mere man no longer fears gods? _

_ I have enjoyed the brief philosophical back-and-forth the man and I had in Durovnia, a moment I have yet to see again from this man. Perhaps it’s a one-off thing, this Steven Trevor can muster the brain and thinking capacity once a year. _

_ The Princess’ lover isn’t probably much conversation, the Princess herself is a busy enough Amazon that she isn’t around a lot, I have yet to find something to pass the time by as I sit here. _

Aphrodite took in the double shelves of well-used books inside Princess Diana’s living area. An impressive library for such a small household. She got over the strange way these extensive stories have been bound, page-by-page rather than scrolls and sheets or slabs, and instead tightly organized between two thicker pages, some made of sturdy plastic, others bound in thick leather and felt.

“The Princess of Amazons is a scholar, I see,” Aphrodite commented, eyes scanning the spines of the books, catching a few familiar titles. _ Metamorphoses, Odyssey, The Aeneid. _Among many, many more.

Diana who was brewing the goddess tea in the kitchen looked up from her work. “What’s that?”

“You have quite the library, is what I meant, Princess Diana,” Aphrodite’s tone resumed it’s bored pitch, eyes falling on a thick paper-back book with strange symbols accompanied by characters she could read. The word “Romance” caught her eye.

“It is, but those aren’t mine. They’re Steve’s,” Diana replied as she casually replaced the lid on the boiling pot, and looked up at the goddess with a smile. “I’m slowly catching up to him. He’s read them all.”

Aphrodite’s expression didn’t waver, but Diana could tell the goddess certainly didn’t expect her “ordinary” lover would be such a bibliophile. And an admirer of the classics. But Steve was often quiet about those facts about himself. Diana wasn’t going to keep that secret for him.

She glided towards the goddess with two mugs of tea in her hand and handed one to Aphrodite, a pleased smile on her face. “Feel free to borrow any number of them. I’m sure Steve won’t mind.”

“We’ll he’ll have to. I sure as Hades am not going to ask that man permission to read,” Aphrodite admitted bluntly.

Diana let out an inaudible sigh underneath her bemused smirk. “So, find one that suits your fancy?”

“What’s this _ Romance of the Three Kingdoms _?” Aphrodite asked as she pulled the book off the shelf staring at the foreign characters on the cover. Diana’s eyes widened a bit, and answered in a bit of a rush, “Oh, before you get into that I should warn you it is not an actual romance.”

“It isn’t?”

Diana shook her head. “But you may enjoy it. It’s pretty close to the prose of our epic tales. It reminds me of _ Histories. _”

“What is your favorite?” Aphrodite asked, eyes back to scanning the spines. “What prose from this world has captured your fancy?”

Diana let out a hum, eyes going to the ceiling as she was thinking. Again, she hadn’t made it through all of Steve’s collection, having a propensity to have him read to her, cuddled on the couch during evenings together. Currently, Steve was reading her _ Dune _novels, a different change of pace, being a sci-fi fantasy epic. She remembered him being a bit excited to start reading them to her.

But that took her back to a Christmas ago, when she spent the long nights of December reading with Steve in front of the fire. It was the first time she was introduced to _ A Christmas Carol. _ The story of a contemptuous man and his redemption had captivated her. After they had finished the book, Steve took to showing several movie productions of the same play, insisting the Alistair Sims version was the superior one of them all.

Diana pointed to the mahogany bound book, with the title written in gold leaf.

“I have a recent fondness of this one. But I’d reserve it for the winter solstice.”

Aphrodite gave a frown as she decided to go with _ Metamorphoses _, “I should hope we find my home before then, Princess.”

_ I know I won’t get much rest tonight. Perhaps not for a while as I get used to this place. Right now, it’s quiet. Almost too quiet; the entire household and it’s guests dead asleep. I never thought I’d envy lesser beings. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" or "Sanguo yanyi" is a Chinese classical historical novel by Luo Guangzhong. It is a fictionalized account of the Three Kingdoms era of China after the fall of the Han Dynasty.


	2. Day 2

_ Day 2 _

_ Princess Diana is away. She is assisting other creatures from Olympus is avoiding trouble. So it is just me and this man this morning. A day in and I don’t find him offensive, but I am aware he is mortal. I am in no danger should he do anything untoward me, if he dared. _

_ But he is still a man. And I am a… _

_ A goddess of something. Love, lust, I don’t much care anymore. _

_ And neither does he. He has a polite familiarity to him that can be aggravating at times, but I should get used to mere mortals no longer caring about my divinity. And he does this while vulnerable, wounded a few times while our party tried to escape Ares in Durovnia, and wrapped in bandages the Princess had dressed him in yesterday after a light spat over whether to take him to the hospital. _

_ I had snapped at him. My unfamiliarity of being treated as simple guest while never knowing if I will be anything else had gotten the best of me. I surprised myself in my outburst since I am more depressed than anything. _

_ But this man looks at you and you might as well be scolding a dog. There is a lack of understanding in his wide gaze, as if he truly was incapable of comprehending the reason behind my outburst. And it made me feel absolutely petty. Especially given he was still black and blue in some areas and his bandages were plain to see. _

Aphrodite descended the stairs, catching Steve sitting stiffly on the sofa in the living area. He must’ve been freshly bandaged again, because he only craned his neck to the side when he heard her presence, stiff from the tightness of the bandages.

“Oh, you’re up,” he said lightly, briefly masking his hesitation at the idea that the goddess of love was now living among them. “Diana said to let you rest…”

“Never you mind,” Aphrodite interrupted dispassionately as she rifled through cabinets in the kitchen, searching for something moderately appetising to eat.

“If you wait, I gotta run to the store anyways, I can make you an omelet when I return with some eggs. Or get you...something else?”

Aphrodite didn’t seem to be paying attention to him as she found a loaf of bread and pulled out a slice.

“Ah, the butter is in the fridge-”

“Yes, Son of Prometheus, I know what butter is and where beings such as yourself see fit to store it.” Her tone, though annoyed, was rich and clear, and the heavy pause Steve allowed, made it seem like she got her point across.

Until he decided to speak again, “There’s goat cheese on the bottom self there.”

She slammed the refrigerator door, beer and condiment bottles rattling inside from the force. Still Aphrodite held her tongue, mindful that Steven Trevor was probably not purposefully annoying her. Probably.

Steve was just nervous. It had been quite a while since Diana had fostered anyone into her home, so he had gotten used to having his little paradise alone with her. Now in the matter of what seemed like seconds, his home felt too crowded. It didn’t do well now that he was recovering from the last battle, and now he had to play the gracious host to a goddess and a number of mythical creatures as well.

If Diana wondered why his wounds were taking so long to heal, he would gladly tell her why.

He grunted in pain as he rocked forward and forced himself off the couch and onto his feet. He limped over to the coat stand where he grabbed his coat shaking his collar as he prepared to leave.

“I’ll be out for an hour. You sure you don’t need anything?”

His eyes dared to regard her expectantly, openly.

It was this way he addressed her. The way he always addresses her and the many strange creatures that have come and gone through Diana’s home. So unlike the sycophantic fear of their subjects from centuries ago.

“NO! I do not and will never need anything from the likes of you, mortal man Steven Trevor! And there is nothing you can possibly do to ever help me or anyone like me. Now could you PLEASE let me be alone!”

The man looked lost. Perhaps slightly frightened, but mostly lost. Lost to how to respond. Lost to how to take care of anyone in this house, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't make to call her back when she tore out of the kitchen in a huff, disappearing into her abode.

Aphrodite did not emerge from her room when Steve returned. She could hear the tires of his truck roll up the drive way and the doors slam shut as he removed the groceries. He didn't seem to stall between putting the groceries away and begin making some brunch. She could hear the ruckus in the kitchen to know that he was indeed cooking.

Aphrodite lost herself in her latest reading until she heard someone come up the steps to the loft.

She could smell something -- _ something delicious -- _and heard the heavy footfalls of boots as whomever came up to the loft lingered by her door.

Steve stopped abruptly when Aphrodite opened the door, a brief look of fear flashing in his eyes as he figured he was still upsetting her. Still, he managed to speak before she could, “I was just going to leave this out your door just in case you wanted it. In case you were still hungry.”

Her eyes flickered to the dish in his hand, the smell of peppers enough to make her desire to eat again. But the cynical part of her that had cropped up recently was suspicious of the gesture. Would he resort to poisoning her, or subject her to a cruel joke? She held out her hand, silently waiting for Steve to hand it over. A gesture he didn’t recognize until a few seconds of silence passed between them, Aphrodite’s outstretched hand still empty.

“Oh!” he exclaimed when he realized what she was saying and handed the dish over. If he was waiting for gratitude however, he didn’t get it, the door closing firmly in his face before he could say another word.

Hours later, however, as Steve stiffly tried to do the dishes, while his bandages started to itch and irritate his skin, he turned his head as he noticed a presence lingering at the top of the stairs to the loft.

Aphrodite’s keen eyes flashed from the dimness towards him, chewing on words she couldn’t yet say.

But she did eventually manage a compliment.

“Your ‘omelet’ was satisfactory, Steven Trevor,” her voice was rigid, the compliment not coming easy.

Steve glanced up from his station, eyeing her as if he were trying to read her sincerity. But he acknowledged her with a nod and a “Thank you.”

_ The man is a surprisingly good cook. There was something unappetizing upon looking at this ‘omelet’; all yellow with bright greens and reds, but the smell… _

_ And the taste. Warm and hearty. And filling. He could not cook for the gods by a long shot, but if the man cooks for the Princess on the daily, she must work hard to maintain her well crafted figure. I may begrudge at being proven wrong, but I am impressed enough to state so to him. He has proven useful in something. _


	3. Day 3

_ Upon my request, the satyr was gracious enough to collect a few books from the bookcase downstairs for me to pass the time with. I had finished  _ Metamorphoses _ and I didn’t want to linger down among the human male quite yet. _

_ Princess Diana returned late last night. I could hear their voices muffled and hushed in the living area as the Princess replaced his bandages for the night. No doubt he told her of my outburst. And maybe it is none of my business, but I have not seen much of love between these so-called lovers. Where was the drowning passion I saw when these two reunited on the battlefield? The heavy weight of my power that drove Steven Trevor of the United States Navy to do very stupid things? I had expected to hear ‘boots-knocking’ in the night the moment I was living among them. _

_ But not a blip. I don’t have to pry. As a goddess of love, I am attuned enough to the concept to sense and feel every aspect of it around me. And as it is my power, I fully expect my presence to...instill an even greater fervor among them. _

_ But except for the satyr finding love in a food fetcher from the city, and Cadmus chasing anything that breathes, this house is lacking in my worship. _

_ I don’t want to complain. It is their lives and I don’t want to give credence to Steven Trevor’s fear that I am judging their lives. Whether I am or not, I plan to keep my mouth shut about it around them. And certainly the last thing the Princess needs is the confirmation that I may be listening in. I am self-aware enough to understand “performance anxiety.” _

_ I had figured she was of a more militant stock of Amazon. I know of the value Hippolyta places in defending oneself against any that would bring danger to others. And I know of Antiope’s might but she was not a worshiper of mine. Not even in the perfunctory, or trivial sense. _

_ But Princess Diana holds a warm optimism and brightness that I imagine has to translate well into pure passion and everlasting affection. Yet I don’t feel that familiar tingle and warmth I feel when two lovers are, knowingly or unknowingly, giving me praise. _

_ The Princess came in to speak with me, asking me and approaching me as a worshiper rather than a host. When she asked if there was anything she could do to make my stay better, I could not answer clearly. I was too aware that Steven Trevor asked the same thing yesterday and I had unleashed my verbal wrath upon him. _

_ I truly don’t know what I need. I know what I want, but what I want could lead to folly for me and me fellow refugees. So here I am, reading this stack of books from the satyr. _

_ I wonder how far he’s gotten with the food fetcher. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The satyr is Damon, food fetcher is Maggie, and Cadmus is a winged horse and all Wilson creations from her Wonder Woman run.


	4. Day 4

_ Day 4 _

_ I...just had the most bizarre conversation with Steven Trevor. I certainly did not want to wake up to be dragged into a deep discussion about anything, but, lucky me, I had to endure that with the still mending human man. _

_ Philosophy, if you can believe it. He had a question about that topic specifically. Which, I guess is a sign that he does know what he doesn’t know. _

_ But he looked ridiculous, with this weird contraption over his head, something that I now know is supposed to play music to a person without disturbing the surroundings. Whatever that contraption was didn’t do much to keep what noise he called music silent. _

_ I can talk philosophy. I can philosophize all day if I wanted (Which is rare). You aren’t a sister of Apollo without having philosophy pounded into your head. But it is just that. Something mortals play with to figure out their pointless lives. Something gods play with to mock them. _

_ But philosophy did always have a way to set apart greatness from the rest. _

Steve was again delegated to the couch, ears covered in headphones, listening to music a bit too loud. He was anxious of the quiet of late. Despite the house now filled with strange beings, they were all in their business, the goddess voluntarily sequestered up in her room.

Diana was gone. She was gone a lot lately. And the silence, a reminder of her absence made him uneasy, so he had to drown out the quiet. He had been engrossed in his rock music, that he didn’t address when Aphrodite strolled down to the shelves of his books at first, but did a double take when he noticed trying to pick out her next titles to read.

“Hey, you know Stoicism, right?”

Aphrodite visibly tried to swallow a noise of surprise coming from her throat at his question. She turned her head over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”   


“I mean the philosophy.”

“You? Are asking about philosophy?”

Whether Steve took that as an insult or not, it didn’t much matter as he simply replied, “Yes, I am asking about philosophy. And considering where you’re from, I would think you all people would have some insight.”

The goddess was not comfortable with him yet. That much was evident in the way she eyed him at a simple request to talk philosophy. There was still much about modern man that Aphrodite wasn’t quite used to.

But she slowly took a few steps towards him, tucking the book she settled on underneath her arm, but made no move to sit in the empty easy chair next to the sofa.

“You’re certain it would not be beyond your comprehension?” Aphrodite asked, almost genuinely. She had certainly did not anticipate having a conversation about ancient moral beliefs with a man who seemed to always be miles away.

But his frown showed he knew a backhanded insult when he heard it. With a light growl, Aphrodite turned her head up slightly towards the ceiling, as if cursing the empty Olympus for her fate. But she sighed and eased in the easy chair. As far away from Steve as she could manage. And she asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Doesn’t Stoicism talk about something called 'pneuma'?” he asked, headphones still around his ears, the music turned off or at least low enough that Aphrodite couldn’t hear it.

Aphrodite thought to give him some pretext. “Stoicism is man’s concept either way. It has no connection to me or my kind.”

“Oh.”

“But this ‘pneuma’ you speak of. I do not know of what context you’ve heard it, but strictly speaking it is…”

“The creative spirit, I know,” Steve interrupted before she could finish.

She was quite clearly annoyed and gave him a snarl, “Then why do you ask me things you already know? To waste my time?”

Steve shifted in his seat, paying no mind to her hostility, unconsciously leaning in just a bit towards her, “No, I mean what does it mean cosmically speaking? Like, to Stoics does it connect somewhere to the universe or is it just like an appendix, where it’s just a thing in your body?”

Aphrodite didn’t exactly understand what he meant by his question and he didn’t seem to completely know how to phrase it. But through this understanding, Aphrodite could find and answer that would help him.

“'Pneuma' is very much a connective tissue to the cosmos around you. But it is also evident in your breath. So to answer your specific question, Stoics believed it was a bit of both. In general, it is the connective tissue between all things animate and inanimate and the universe where we exist.”

Steve glanced down at the carpet as he pondered Aphrodite’s answer. After a few moments of what could’ve been mistaken as deep meditation, there was a twitch in his face as he popped his head back up to meet Aphrodite’s gaze. She was struck with how his face could practically light up with the way he beamed, “That’s awesome.”

“Indeed. Are you now going to fall by the way of Cato and Seneca and follow Stoicism’s principles?”

“I...don’t think so,” he replied. “Though I grew up believing in something not far from them.” He pointed up to the bookcase to a thick, leather bound book, the edges frayed a bit, and the golden title faded into a dusky bronze.

Aphrodite gave him a knowing nod, “You were a follower of  _ Christos. _ ”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that…” Steve didn’t explain further. He merely glanced down at his phone to change the song. “Thanks for the answer. I’ll let you finish your reading.”

He pulled his headphones back on, and Aphrodite didn’t leave right away. She debated whether to continue her reading circuit next to this man. Though she could hear the muffled tin of the music he was hearing in the headphones, it now at a volume that wasn’t too distracting. And the talkative mortal man seemed preoccupied in the music.

Still, she shifted in the easy chair and got to her feet, leaving for her sanctuary in the loft.

_I have found a worn picture of what I_ _suspect is Steven Trevor of the United States Navy as a child inside a dusty copy of a green book called _The Giving Tree. _I am fascinated by this...this little picture of this man in his youth. His hair is mussed but still golden enough to rival Apollo’s. His ears, quite large they are, stick out beneath the tendrils, and those dimples in his cheeks resemble that of cherubs, a missing tooth in his gaping smile, I find _this _Steven Trevor utterly delightful in my imagination._

_ Gods don’t linger on childhood. Mine was but a flicker in my existence. We grow quick and live long. Mine own children suffered from the same fate. Their childhoods swift and I have missed too much of them. But I remember my Atlantiades as a child. Much the same as full grown, to be frank. But I remember their stubbornness and their confusion of where they fit in among us high in Olympus. _

_ And as I stare at this photo, I am also reminded to guilt I bear over that. _

_ These blue eyes that Steven Trevor possesses, even in this picture, hold a certain wonder that I can’t help but envy. An optimism that I do not have. And I think about how the man’s eyes haven’t changed in my brief correspondence with him so far. A little tired as with man’s age, yes, but they were still bright, still flickering with awe at the possibilities of the world. _

_ Perhaps he is so well acquainted with awe that he can’t help but greet it like an old friend. Hence his familiarity with the likes of us. _

_ I am willing to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. _

_ Princess Diana has returned late again, long after Steven Trevor has retired. She just came up to give me a greeting before retiring for the night as well. I feel sorry for the girl. She probably feels responsible and obligated for every one of us, in spite of always being responsible for other things, but I certainly won’t say no to a short conversation with an Amazonian worshiper. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Subject is inspired by the newest album by Tool. Specifically their song 'Pneuma'.
> 
> The Giving Tree is famously by children's author Shell Silverstein.


	5. Day 5

_Day 5_

_ The day I decide to spend it outside of my rooms started with the worst timing. I come downstairs to overhearing the tail end of a serious conversation between the Princess and Steven Trevor at the entryway to their home. I cannot recall the specific details, but I do remember that Steven Trevor’s brief protestations were cut short as she told him to hold his thoughts until she returned. Then, just as before, she left with a twist of her heal.. _

_ And then, after the door was shut, I witnessed Steven Trevor growl and smash his already mending hand through a wall in the quickest outburst of rage I’ve seen. And as quickly as it exploded it dissipated into silence. He huffed softly, donned his jacket and left the house as well. _

_ Thankfully that was the worst of it. With his absence I had their living area to myself and I had settled on this rather garish but plush looking chair. There was this lever that propped up a surface to elevate my feet. With the lovely ocean breeze coming through the screen door, I found it rather pleasant, even as a gaggle of nymphs began using the pier for their merrymaking. _

_ And when Steven Trevor returned, there wasn’t a fleck of the anger from before. He simply and quietly brought in tools to repair the hole he put in the Princess’ wall. As he worked he didn’t pay me any mind, except to remark that I was downstairs for once. _

_ I gave him mercy and did not ask what drove him to react the way he did that morning. _

_ Because as I see the anxious hurt on his face, I have an idea why. _


	6. Day 6

_ Day 6 _

_ I feel a bit better today. The Princess must have returned in the night because she was in the kitchen when I awoke. Her presence, I realize, certainly makes a difference. The house seems brighter, warmer, less filled with uncertainty. She engages with my kind easily, charming us with witty banter and unwavering compassion all the same. Even the finicky nymphs seemed drawn to her. _

_ She spent the day dressed in plain clothes, odd to look at---a powerful Amazon stuffed into flimsy, plainly decorated cotton. I prefer her choice of mortal world clothes than Steven Trevor, who, quite plainly, commits countless sins of clothing arrangements. When he’s not in various state of a mishmash of undergarments, his clothes that I’ve seen are all a dull green, grey, or brown. Sometimes speckled with a pattern of shapes of these dull colors _

_ These are the uniforms modern soldiers wear? Where is the pride? Where is the gilded crests that flash the glory of your army? These dull colors...it’s quite sad. _

_ I digress. Steven Trevor, for all his drabness in wardrobe options, looked markedly more relaxed today. The tension from days before nearly gone at the Princess’ presence. He was never far from her, his expression nearly radiant with how he beamed at her. _

_ They spent the morning in the city, I presume taking a walk around that large white obelisk that I once gazed upon when first coming here. And then they returned with groceries, they had apparently planned a large picnic for all of us that evening. Kebabs to be exact. I am surprised that we can find quality lamb in this region, let alone tender enough as it was.  _

_ I was feeling generous enough to call for a toast and we raised our wine glasses, thanking our hosts for alleviating the distressing reality that we were all homeless. _

  
  


_ I had awoken in the middle of the night, thankful at least, that I was able to get  _ some  _ sleep under the eyes of Selene the moon. I ponder if I shouldn’t fill it at some point with a few lovers of some kind, of some sort. I haven’t been feeling much desire of late, nor do I feel particularly desirable. Humans, especially in this area I am currently stuck in, do not seem to find the human form, moreover  _ my  _ form, acceptable to gaze at. Additionally, judging by Steven Trevor’s wear, they don’t appreciate aesthetic in garments either. I am forced to cover myself, after centuries of well-- _ never _ needing to. _

_ Just as well, I should not be worrying about being restrictive in my nudity. I should be worrying about Atlantiades. I am worried. But I don’t know of what. That they are in trouble or that they would cause the trouble. _

_ Either way, I must find them soon, and I hope I have placed my trust well in the daughter of Hippolyta. _

_ What I had realized was I was awoken by a commotion in the room below me. Where the Amazon and Steven Trevor of the United States Navy were asleep. Now, I hear voices, rushed and low, and what sounds like frantic movements. Perhaps finally I can confirm that Princess Diana and the man do copulate with each other. For all the expressions of love, mediocre or not, it had seemed for the past few days that they were missing the most intense, passionate, and breathless part about it. And after the way they were looking at each other today, I figured it would only be a matter of time before time separated and passion would get the best of them. _

_ But it wasn’t that. Something didn’t sound alright. I went to the top of the loft, almost certain they could hear my footsteps across their bedroom ceiling anyways. _

_ I was at the top of the spiral staircase when I looked down, able to see figures in the darkness through their open bedroom door. _

As soon as Diana realized what was going on, she turned on her nightstand lamp, now able to see what had woken her.

Steve was beside her, gasping for air, beads of sweat on his forehead. Eyes wide but unfocused. Seeing him in distress caused a moment of panic for Diana, a cry falling in her throat, thinking and fearing over what was ailing him. But quickly she understood the situation: Steve was suffering from a panic attack brought on by a flashback.

Diana quickly rounded the bed and, as she had done once or twice before, gently laid her hands on him, to ground him, to pull him back into reality. A drop or two of his spittle splashed on her cheek, as Steve’s tried to breathe through his clenched teeth.

She held on to him tight, hand on his chest, pressing him down, her other hovering near his cheek, hesitant to touch him while he was shaking and delirious.

“Steve! Steve,” she tried to get through to him over his gasping. For a moment, his breathing sounded worse, but as Diana began to take slow big heavy breaths, his breathing began to fall in line.

“Breathe with me, my love,” her gentle voice cooed, now that she could see that his blue eyes were slowly becoming more focused. He matched her breathing, his body releasing it’s tension as air filled his lungs and the residuals of his flashback began to fade.

The worst was over, and after a silence between them Steve lifted his head slightly from his pillow, his voice scratchy and weary, and suggested, “If you can grab some linens in the closet, I can go on the couch. You probably won’t be able to sleep all that much next to me tonight.”

“Nonsense,” was Diana’s response, wholly dismissive of the suggestion. “You frightened me for a moment there.”

Normally he would’ve waved it off as if it were nothing. Flash a roguish casual smile and send off assurances. Nothing she needed to worry over. But this time, he couldn’t muster the will to dismiss her concerns. He plopped his head back on the pillow, eyes shut tight as he caught his breath again, hand grasping at hers on his chest, allowing her presence to calm him.

“I’ll be right here until you go back to sleep, Steven,” she said in a low voice, hovering over him, rubbing gentle circles on his chest.   
  
He was taking audibly deeper breaths able and once again craned his head off his pillow, his whisper soft but heavy, “Thank you, Diana.”

Diana’s eyes sparkled in the darkness, a gentle and demure smile gracing her lips as she watched Steve lay his head back her hand under his over his calming heart.


	7. Day 7

_ It’s quiet this morning. Maybe I was still remembering the ruckus from last night, but the house seems strangely empty as I go down the spiral stairs. The only company I could see was Princess Diana. She was on her pier, enjoying her mid-morning tea and toast. I helped myself to some that was left in the still warm pot. Cadmus may still be sleeping, but the others seem to have cleared away from the household proper and onto some activity around the area. _

_ I feel a pang of pity. It must’ve been peaceful here for the couple, inside their little secluded den. Imagine, now with hooves and scales beating into the carpet and walls, I don’t doubt even the patient Princess misses the quiet. _

Aphrodite was not in the mood to read this morning. She felt this was as good an opening as ever to have a private chat with Diana that didn’t involve the Princess supplicating herself in front of her.

“I see the tables have turned, Princess. Where is your soldier boy off too?” the goddess inquired as she slid open the door to the deck, letting the morning air, a bit salty from the sea, greet her radiant features.

“He is here. He’s just resting.” Her normally warm expression was held tight, brow rigid as she explained. “He didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I assume by extension, yourself also,” said the goddess, trying hard not to divulge that she saw a bit of what had occurred in the last night. Diana shook her head, “It’s different for me. I’m--”

“Practically a god?”

Diana  _ certainly  _ didn’t like that implication. Or at least she didn’t like thinking about it. The telltale hardening of her jaw as she bitterly chewed on that was clear. And she also didn’t know what to do when the literal Goddess of Love, one of her beloved patrons, dragged her gaze up and down her form, as if it were a generous attempt to see right through her.

“Different,” was Diana’s answer. “He’s got flashbacks you know. They’ve been managed well all his life, but every once in a while, one just sneaks up on him.”

Aphrodite didn’t know what a ‘flashback’ was, but she remembered once in their long history together, Ares was cursed by both Nyx and Mnemosyne a few nights, and the god of war couldn’t rest because of the nightmares the memories of his atrocities brought him. The effects of which seemed eerily similar to how these ‘flashbacks’ appeared to grip Steven Trevor the night before.

Nightmares, Nyx’s usual fare when pestering gods, were well accustomed to, but to bring in Mnemosyne to make them relive the memories of the worst moments of their existence in the form of a nightmare was a cruel and unusual fate even for a god like Ares. 

“And because I was there for what brings him such nightmares, I feel the need to take him out of it,” the air became a clip more somber, the breeze from the ocean even stilling after her breath. Diana did not go into details on her and Steve’s first encounter with Aphrodite. Those details were only hers and Steve’s. The rest of the world, even the United States Military Steve had to report to, didn’t know everything. That day, that moment held many emotions for both. What should’ve been Steve’s worst possible day, losing his comrades and nearly his own life and Diana being exposed quite abruptly to a world beyond hers. It was only fitting that the couple kept that first encounter much to themselves when relaying how Diana came to the world.

The infamous meeting was well known even in the halls of Olympus. Almost, in a twist of irony, being a myth in and of itself among the gods. It also became a game of sorts. Who among the Olympians had touched their hand to the fates of the Princess of Amazons and a lowly soldier? The suspicions and guesses were always a fun topic, whenever the incident came up in conversations.

Given that the Princess and the soldier were romantically involved, Aphrodite started to understand some of the suspicion that it was her that allowed the two worlds to collide.

Aphrodite was the type of goddess to push couples and lovers together, finding it a pleasurable game even for herself. That was before the recent events made her numb to the ideals of her own power. But she pitied the poor Princess who was burdened with countless responsibilities and not able to have a similar soul to relieve such stress.

So Aphrodite decided to test the waters of an offer. The only one she could possess at the moment.

“Princess, are you aware of the concept of ‘polyamory’?”

All too soon, nearly cutting off the goddess’ sentence, Diana answered, “Yes, I am aware. It was somewhat common on Themyscira--”

“But I suspect not much in this world,” Aphrodite gazed around at the ocean as if the horizon could reveal a portal to her home.

Diana closed her arms tighter against herself, and answered, “In small areas there is polygamy. But that is a different issue altogether.”

Aphrodite swirled the grounds of her tea with her finger, staring into it as if diving some fate. “In the old ages, royalty would often have harems. Gods--several lovers.”

“I’m…” a protest died in Diana’s throat. She was becoming increasingly exhausted in correcting people of her divinity. Or lack thereof.

Aphrodite cleared her throat and murmured her offering, “At any rate, should you ever see the need...I can help you find another asset for your bedchamber, Princess.” She twirled a dark chocolate strand of hair around her finger. “Perhaps someone a little more...physical in their loving of your body. To relieve the tension I see on your otherwise fine features.”

Diana’s head whirled to look at the goddess, as if she were caught by surprise by the offer, but her expression was still calm. “As much as I appreciate the offer, my lady, I can’t help but think you have some misconceptions about me when it comes to romance.”

“I am a monogamous woman, always have been, no matter the relationship. I admit I have had many lovers in my life, and in the past I would be considered what this world calls a ‘bed hopper’, but I have always given myself completely to them until it was time to move on,” she went on to explain.

“Forgive me,” Aphrodite replied, though she did not look apologetic. She eyed the princess as if she were making a very bold mental note. The goddess allowed a pause before asking a question that Diana opened herself up for. “And when would it be time to move on from  _ this _ plain, male, and  _ impotent  _ one?”

Diana stared out at sea, not sure of the answer. She could not look into her tea leaves and predict her future. There were still much she and Steve had to discuss in terms of their relationship and where it was going. Living in each other’s love was great for a time, but after a while, maybe winging their relationship wasn’t the best idea.

Aphrodite could sense all of this. The impermanence of Steve’s life versus the relative permanence of hers weighing on Diana’s mind. And the scale of their respective duties were obviously a strain.

But Diana surprised her in answering, “I pray, that time won’t be until after I am to bury him, and I pray that won’t be until several decades from now.”

_ The Princess is brave to admit that right in front of me. But I can sense her fear. There is a sense of maturity that she probably would have never grown into remaining on that island. This world has in many ways, broken her, reduced her to be just as miserable as mankind. And I thought, by Steven Trevor’s thread-like grip on hope and happiness, that he could not, no matter how hard he tried, ease her pain.  _

_ My theory would soon be tested later in the day, when the male and the Princess spent the evening watching something called a ‘movie’. Some series of moving photos and sound on a flat panel hanging on the living room wall. This ‘movie’ they picked was called ‘ _ Dr. Strangelove’.  _ I do not remember what this ‘movie’ was about, I was trying to read  _ Sense and Sensibility _ but was a bit distracted. To be specific, the Princess and Steven Trevor who were getting increasingly cozy next to each other. A much welcome distraction I found. _

For as many creatures and gods in the living area, the only sound was from the television screen and the chewing of popcorn as a bowl was passed around the captivated creatures. Damon, the satyr, fell asleep a half-an-hour through, and Steve and Diana were cuddled up on the opposite end of the couch Damon was lying limp on. 

Aphrodite, in her easy chair was the only one whose attention was not on the movie. But it wasn’t on her book either. Her gaze was fixed squarely on the couple, who looked quite comfortable and possible more content than she had possible ever seen them together.

Her staring must’ve caught Steve’s eye because he met her gaze.

“What you got there?” Steve’s friendly tone cut through the sound of the movie. Aphrodite silently tilted her book, so he could get a look at what she was reading. He smirked, shoulders lifting a bit as he chuckled to himself. "Jane Austen, eh?"

He chewed a bit on his popcorn.

“Well, if you think love and romance should be based on pragmatism, you’ll be all over her. If you feel otherwise it’s still a fascinating look at love as a tragedy -"

“-Steve”

“-I mean you could always go Bronte sisters too, but six-o-one essentially on them and Austen-”

“-Steven.” Diana was quietly trying to gain his attention, but his gaze was squarely on the goddess in the easy chair, side-eyeing him from her book as he obliviously went on about his thoughts.

He shoved a few kernels of popcorn in his mouth and spoke as he chewed, “I don’t know what it is but Brits are very weird about that sort of thing. Shakespeare too kind of laughed at-”

“Steve, my love,” Diana placed her hand his forearm and tilted her chin up meeting his gaze, grabbing his attention. “Leave her to read in peace.”

He gave Aphrodite one glance and realized his mistake. Steve apologized in a hushed voice, kernels of popcorn spilling out of his mouth, “Oh, right. Sorry.”

_ It was then that I saw it, a fragment of what I had rarely seen of the couple’s time together. A hint of love between them beyond appearances and duty. _

_ The Princess gazed at him with something in her eyes that I can only describe as adoration. His gaze equally, if not more so, affectionate. She curled into his body more, looking far more cozy against him, than I was in this chair that I have grown fond of. _

_ As I write this, Cadmus is talking to someone outside. Probably a nymph. I warned them to stay away from that...excuse the term...nymphomaniac Pegasus. I better step outside to shoo him off. _

  
  



	8. Day 8

_ Day 8 _

_ From the whispers I hear throughout the day, it seems that Steven Trevor is no longer in his military’s active list for duty. At least for the time being. And I have never seen a man take the guarantee of not dying a very painful death so badly. It was like a piece was deflated out of him and perhaps he was more depressed than I am currently. _

_ I was told that he had been called off future missions before, and always he is reinstated, but perhaps there is a fear that this will be the last. Again, I will never understand this why not being in war is such a bad thing. I always had little understanding of the minds of the sons of Ares. _

_ But that is neither here nor there. I had caught the Princess today weeping on her pier as I was returning a few of the books I had borrowed from the household. I was about to take a closer look and perhaps go out and comfort her, when Steve brushed by from his station in the kitchenette. He seemed to notice...or sense...that the Princess was feeling uneasy. _

Aphrodite watched from her perch by the bay window as Steve approached Diana, standing at first, and as soon as he got a glimpse of her tear blemished face he immediately took his seat beside her.

He didn’t even ask what was wrong. Diana simply gave him a sniff, “Why haven’t I heard anything?”

“About home?”

“I’m not dumb. I know the barrier between us and them is vast. Still, I feel like I should’ve heard something.”

Steve had heard the same worries for weeks now and he understood her pain and her uncertainty. But he had no clue what he could offer her in help beyond feeble promises based on gut instinct.

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned, “I can’t sleep or eat not knowing what happened to them. I feel so utterly useless.”

Steve visibly jumped at her lamentation and immediately hovered closer to her, grabbing her hands in his and trying to meet her gaze with his. “Hey, don’t talk like that. You can’t do that to yourself,” Steve’s gentle reply, meant to be comforting, had just a hint of a command. Tough but certainly not unforgiving and full of compassion.

Diana flicked her eyes towards his, sadness evident, that even his words couldn’t be solace anymore.

Words defeated, instead Steve began rubbing small circles on her back, letting her lean her body into him. Into his comfort and warmth, a remedy that had a bit more effect than his words. The frustration about his shaky future in his career being brushed aside so that he could just...be for Diana. It was a tender moment, a moment Aphrodite had to take her time to understand, but her curiosity was peaked. A warm feeling sparked a little inside her, a feeling long lost but only fleeting. The couple continued in quiet, letting the ocean breeze be their only company.

But that warmth was short lived. After the silence and Diana had gathered herself enough to speak through tear filled eyes. “I have to leave again.”

Steve stiffened but didn’t say anything, even as Diana knowingly placed a hand on his wrist as if she were afraid he would leave at that.

“There’s apparently clues in the Pacific Northwest and I would like to investigate,” Diana explained, sensing his misgivings. “I can’t not worry, Steve. I want to at least find their fate one way or another.”

“I don’t want you to not worry,” Steve explained a bit defensively. “But you have to manage yourself. Accomplish what you can control, until you figure out how to accomplish what you can’t. Constantly making tasks for yourself just for the sake of doing so is going to cause more problems.”

She leaned away from him, a frown on her lips and brow. She disagreed mightily with Steve’s opinion and couldn’t help but feel his comment was more an attack on her priorities.

“What would you have me do? Twiddle my thumbs here until I hear if the Amazons -- my mother -- are alive or not? How is that going to accomplish anything any better?”

“You keep spinning my words--”   


Diana was already leaving her seat next to Steve, and in charging her way away from him, she let slip her frustration in a forceful bite.

“Just because you require governmental permission to do anything, doesn’t mean we all have to sit here and wallow with you.” She slammed the screen door closed behind her.

Any movement Steve made to follow her and defend his position stopped at those very words. He just stared after her, unable to mask the incredible hurt that snipe gave him. Hide or not, Diana did not even glance back. Aphrodite, who pretended not to be interested in the couple, when Diana stormed in, noticed that Steve didn’t look angry. There was no mistake, his face fell in absolute despair. As if Diana ripped something away from him. And with it, his will.

_ I am beginning to pity this mortal. As more refugees from Olympus make their homes here, it’s becoming clear that he simply cannot handle the amount of responsibility all on his own, all the while worry about his increasingly absent lover in the Princess. _

_ I should use some of my magic to patch the hurt between those two. I acknowledge that we--us Olympians--are much the cause of their strain. I think that warrants a deus ex machina on their love lives, if I can manage it. Or at least have them experience more than gentle words followed by vicious fights. _

_ In the end I chose not to. For some reason I don’t think the Princess nor Steven Trevor would appreciate having their feelings manufactured, no matter how much it was intended to fix what was mistakenly broken. _


	9. Day 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As many have noticed I have upped the rating from T to M. It was my every intent to keep this has moderate as possible as the focus was less on the fun stuff and more on the angst. But whenever Aphrodite's involved, it can't be squeaky clean for too long. It's only for one or two chapters and I hate changing ratings for a chapter or two, but I gotta.

_ Day 11 _

_ I have returned. I had an impromptu trip with the Princess to this Pacific Northwest in searching for the rest of the Olympians and, for the Princess, the hope that the Amazons were still alive. I decided to leave with her on her journey, coming to the decision late in the night---not long after my last entry--that I can follow the Princess’ drive to search for my Atlantiades. As such I have not the opportunity to record the previous days. _

_ My situation, in joining the fray, however, is different from Diana's. She, arguably, has a lot more to lose, but unlike her, I do not have responsibilities or anyone that I know of waiting for me at home as well. No loose ends, beyond that last bit of responsibility I do have: Atlantiades. _

_ I have returned with the food fetcher, Maggie, much to Damon’s delight. I felt an ecstatic thrill, involuntary mind you, run through as I gazed at the odd couple as they lovingly reunited. _

_ And I frown that those were the only lovers to be reunited today. _

_ I did not think I would be able to take Steven Trevor’s almost pathetically disappointed face that Diana hadn’t returned. She was having a bit of a bout with one giantess named Giganta. I had figured there was history there and that Steven Trevor would probably understand. _

_ But I never really had the opportunity to tell him the bad news. _

_ _

Aphrodite had found Steve propped up against the far wall of the living area staring blankly at the kitchenette, mouth slightly agape. He was bare chested, holding his bandaged hand out in front of him limply. He appeared to be in a stupor. Concussed perhaps. Drunk maybe. Either way, Aphrodite cocked her head at the man and the satyr and Maggie entered, giggling joyfully among themselves, high on the love of their reunion. All thoughts of where to bring that reunion further were halted as they too grew more concerned over Steve's odd behavior.

Aphrodite gave Damon a confused look, and flicked an elegant finger in Steve’s direction,“What in Gaia’s name is the matter with him?”

“Dunno, he’s been acting weird ever since lunch,” Damon murmured glancing back over his shoulder at Steve, whose head began to slowly move as he seemed entranced with the ceiling above the dining table.

“What happened at lunch?” asked Maggie.

“Nothing,” Damon replied defensively. “I made him a sandwich. That’s it.”

The two women flicked their heads in Damon’s direction. His ears lowered as he figured he was in trouble.

“It was just a peanut butter sandwich!”

Aphrodite did not look or sound amused. “What..is a peanut butter sandwich?”

Damon shrugged his hairy shoulders, before pointing to his lady love next to him. “She makes them for me. Quite good, you know.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide, not enjoying being implicated in...whatever was happening to their host. “Uhh, I assure you peanut butter sandwiches I make don’t turn people into that.”

“What’s in them?”

Damon started ticking off ingredients on his fingers as he spoke, “Bread slices, a delicious sweet tasting spread I am assuming made from peanuts, given the name, mushrooms—“

Maggie interrupted him, “Mushrooms are not in peanut butter sandwiches.”

Damon’s eyes went wide and then he whined, “That’s what was in mine!”

“Because you specifically asked for them. Which I remember promptly telling you was absolutely disgusting.”

“Okay, but still that didn’t cause that,” Damon gestured to Steve who was now shifting in his seat but wasn’t moving from the spot, something invisible nagging at him. “If it’s the mushrooms then the blame lies with who put them there. And it wasn’t me!”

That didn’t narrow down suspects, with how many things made their way in and out of the kitchen at any given moment. The minotaurs knew cooking and would never put contaminated mushrooms in with the rest of the food. That left nymphs, griffins, sprites, and...

“Cadmus!” Maggie, Damon, and Aphrodite called and Steve flinched against their outburst.

“What!?” they heard a gruff voice call back from somewhere outside.

“Get over here!” Aphrodite’s crisp beautiful tone dropped to a growl, annoyed on the behalf of their hosts.

They heard the clopping of Cadmus’ hooves as he approached the nearby bay window, cursing and spitting all the way, knowing he was in trouble. It was hard not to get in trouble when you're the only winged horse in the mortal plane of existence. People tend to notice and that tends to lead to unintended consequences. So what did he do now? He craned his head through the window.

“Where did you find the mushrooms that were in the kitchen?” asked Aphrodite.

“The magic ones?”

The Damon and Aphrodite exchanged glances, and Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Magic mushrooms” was a concept that transcended the worlds of man and gods it seemed.

“So he is tripping balls,” Maggie whispered with a mixture of concern and humor at the accidental nature of Steve’s state. “Wondy’s gonna flip.”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t a situation where we can speed up the sobriety,” Aphrodite leaned down and was about to wrap her graceful hands around Steve's arm to help him up and away from so much sensory stimulation, but he wrenched his arm away violently.

“Stoooop,” Steve’s deep long drawl interrupted them. “Just let me have this. This isn’t my first rodeo doing this shit.”

Aphrodite wasn't so much alarmed at the idea that Steven Trevor had been through a mushroom induced euphoria before, as the fact he was so rough and thankless to her offer to help him to his feet. She rarely got to her knees for anyone, let alone a mortal man, and he had outright rejected her. She would impress herself with her patience towards him at that moment. But she rather suffer through a stubborn Steve Trevor than a mortified Amazonian devotee.

What Steve Trevor was going through was a typical psychedelic high, quite a shock as he first started feeling (or seeing) the effects, not knowing what he had ingested at first, eventually he learned to ride it out. He noticed the waviness on the walls, the white marble on the various statues Diana had throughout their home taking on vague multi color tinges, depending on where the sun was hitting. His body felt tense, and he felt like pacing, but at the same time felt right at home on the floor, letting the various characters go about their day with him as the casual observer.

It only got bad when he saw Maggie and Aphrodite return with no Diana. His body began to feel hot. Hot enough that he removed his shirt, his body going through tremors as the high took him into another wave. Suddenly, all he could think of was how much he missed Diana’s eyes. He didn't know why specifically her eyes at that moment, but that's all he could think about. The smokiness around clear blue irises that could intimidate and comfort in a single glance. He often joked she didn’t need to wear make-up. Her divine features seemed to do most of the work for her.

Aphrodite and Maggie watched in silence as he wrapped his arms around his knees, as the weight of him missing Diana took his trip in a dark direction. Now his thoughts were spiraling into worse and worse thoughts and scenarios. Unlikely, unreasonable scenarios, but what did you expect? He was on mushrooms. But all those unreasonable scenarios were born from a very real place of insecurity within him.

Aphrodite and Damon did their best to convince Steve to have a lie down in his room. Be away from so much stimuli and let him ride the rest of his trip. A darkened quiet room can calm him down. Steve seemed willing to comply and nearly tumbled onto the made bed. He spent the next few hours bundled in his blanket, unable assuage the jittery feeling his body had.

The sweating, mania and restlessness was long gone by the time Diana returned late late in the night, after the deities and creatures also have gone to bed, absolved from the crime of inadvertently spiking Steve’s lunch.

_ I am now awake in the middle of the night. Awoken by my hosts in their room below me. In the distance I could hear noise coming from their room. A feeling, long forgotten swelled in my heart, in my belly, pulsing and growing more intense. _

_ I knew it when people were worshipping me. The fire in the lover’s breasts that spilled into passion during love making is something I most certainly can feel when I am in the vicinity of it. And I can tell by the hushed tones, the cautious creaking of the bed below that the couple is trying very hard not to wake their guests. _

_ Shocking that an Amazon, so used to open orgies and revelries, would do everything in her power to confine her carnal acts to behind closed and silent doors. Or it could be Steven Trevor’s influence. Does he realize my mystical friends are quite used to open acts of intercourse? _

_ Regardless, I am now bored enough that I might as well pry. Live vicariously through these two. If I listen closely enough I can hear kisses and sighs, easy and slow. Nothing frantic, but the warmth was just as intense. _

_ The Princess is the one to make noise, her sighs slowly and gradually escalating into a keening, a whine, and in the silence it might as well been a thunderclap. I could feel her try to reach that top, I myself racing up there as well trying to meet her at that peak and welcome her. _

_ Then the cries of passion fell into silence, replaced by violent fast creaking of the bed that grew louder and louder. I hear a soft gasp, a quiet wheeze, and then it was over, bed and voices still, pleasant numbness trickling into my limbs. _

_ Today ended a little bit better than it began. _


	10. Day 12

_ Day 12 _

_ It is the twelfth day since I have been living in this place. It is the weekend, I have heard it called. It is an oddly quiet morning. Usually the Princess or Steven Trevor are up and about in the morning. I am often woken to the smell of a beverage of what this world calls  _ coffee _ , but it is well past daybreak and their bedroom door is still shut tight. Neither have left the room. _

_ I have a suspicion of what those two were doing this sunny morning, now that it is clear that the couple are like any other lovers in the bedroom. _

_ My suspicions are confirmed when the Princess is the first to emerge from her bedroom, dressed in a silk robe that seemed to just barely cling to her flesh enough in order to stay on, looking  _ exceptionally  _ relaxed and airy as she sauntered about, not hiding the passionate blush from her cheeks, wishing me a good morning. I wonder as I write this if she was taunting me just a bit, showing off the aftermath of her worship to me, challenging me to be unimpressed. _

_ But there is something to the glow and soft smile the Amazon takes on that whatever concerns I had about the way they express her bond with the man in her bedroom were tempered. She had the blushing sensual countenance of a woman in love.  _

“And a good morning to you too, Princess Diana,” Aphrodite fixed Diana with a knowing look, almost a glare, as the Princess padded to the kitchen, pouring herself a small glass of orange juice. “You two are getting a late start.”

The corner of Diana’s lips lifted in a knowing smirk, her voice low in bemusement, “Oh, I don’t think we’re quite ready to start yet.”

The quirk of Aphrodite’s brow was becoming a common one. A silent sign of approval as her housemates unknowingly perform their devotions to her. It first came about in the couple’s quiet interactions and soft declarations to each other, now after knowing the couple, one part human and another part Amazon, were just like all other lovers in terms of the bedchamber, that brow was often accompanied by a wry smirk or a sigh of exasperation.

Before her was a woman, an Amazon, so enthralled in the current afterglow, that the Goddess of Love even felt she had to leave Diana alone for her to resolve such an obvious flare of sensual desire.

That poor mortal man in the bedroom. Aphrodite chuckled to herself at the thought of Steven Trevor just regaining consciousness only to find his lusty Amazon on him again.

Diana didn’t have to share details. Aphrodite could just  _ tell. _

Even the way Diana was eating her yogurt in front of her goddess exuded lust. Focused and hard, especially as she allowed the spoon to trace her lower lip as she finished a bite of her yogurt.

Aphrodite placed her hands heavily on the kitchenette table in front of her and excused herself, more for Diana’s sake, to be free to satisfy the ache that was likely returning. “Excuse me, Princess Diana. I shall...give you some air.”

The goddess met the outdoors with some modicum of relief, the outdoor air helping her feel better, no matter how much she normally desired the thick heady air that came from being inside a lover’s domain.

“Whoo boy! I can smell the pheromones from here!”

“Our hosts have discovered some fleshly delights, Cadmus,” Aphrodite replied as she met the Pegasus.

“Oh good,” Cadmus snickered, “I was beginning to suspect you had finally gone out of your rut mistress. And into an actual one if you know what I mean?”

He glanced back at the house and then followed Aphrodite, “Do...do you think they’d want company?”

Aphrodite gave a passive gesture of dismissal with a wave of her hand, “Trust me, they would not be into it. And you would not find their brand appealing after a while.”

“Really?” the creature jerked his head back in surprise. “She’s an Amazon, right?”

“Very much so,” the waves of Aphrodite’s deep brown hair whipped around her shoulders as she turned back towards Cadmus. “I could explain it all to you, but I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing personal, Cadmus. It’s just something that creatures like your kind would not understand nor appreciate, believe me,” Aphrodite strode forward to stroke his shoulder, matronizingly, as if he did something she didn’t blame him for. Cadmus, curious, followed his mistress as she wandered into the Princess' woods, desiring to feel grass between her toes again.


End file.
